


Chemicals badly reacting

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Category: American Idiot - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomnia, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:03:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: Dedicated to my best friend (they know who they are and are quite possibly the only one who's gonna read this) , for relentlessly supporting and encouraging me in this, the obscurest of trash ships. Thank you, mate





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my best friend (they know who they are and are quite possibly the only one who's gonna read this) , for relentlessly supporting and encouraging me in this, the obscurest of trash ships. Thank you, mate

"You told me to do it. You told me you wanted it done. You didn't tell me how."  
In the darkness of his bedroom something shifts, tumbling from a shelf, and Johnny startles awake. He's completely drenched in sweat- for a helpless moment he thinks he's pissed himself, he's so wrecked that it wouldn't be a surprise- and he can hear his own breathing, harsh like radio static. His dreams have never been so vivid, so clearly etched into his mind. The bitter whispering seemed real.  
Jimmy's touch still lingers in the corners of the darkness around him, his voice whispering in his ears. Sometimes it dances across his tongue, joyfully scathing, and he bites it back so hard it bleeds because the worst way to honour his memory would be by becoming him. Fucked up though he was, Jimmy was electric royalty, twisting the world to his will. Johnny could never do him justice.  
Besides, it's not the way Jimmy would have wanted it.

_I love you, he's screaming, I love you, and Johnny's hands over his ears are doing nothing to drown him out. He's everything, everywhere, already inside Johnny's chest, his head._

Johnny pushes the heel of his hands against his eyelids, trying to clear the memories. Instinctively he fumbles in the dark for his headphones. The bass kick throbs in stuttering syncopation to the pounding in his head, and he whimpers.

_Get out!  
Where? Nobody's looking for saints today, Johnny boy, not when you can buy them in any hotel room and dispose of them once you've made your excuses._

His fast, shallow breathing steadies a little, less with calm than with inevitability. The eye of a storm may mean certain death, but one last certainty is comforting amid the chaos nonetheless.

_I don't care where you go, just as long as it's away from me. I can't take this, Jimmy, not any more._

He closes his eyes and for a moment he thinks he can taste the foul-smelling water, hear the cries of the birds and the distant roar of the city. The way Jimmy would have done.

_Click. ___

 _ _The sound of the gun blends seamlessly with the blare of a passing car, and Johnny falls back down.  
For the sixth night in a row, only the ceiling stares back at him.__

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Every High Has A Comedown" by Anarbor. Reviews are always wonderful


End file.
